Page 87

I'm back in my own room, and I'm alone. They left me. They left me again, and I…why would he do that?

Or worse…I imagined everything. The roof, the hotel room, Luca, Declan, the bathtub…

But it was so real—so real I can smell Luca on my skin even now. I remember the way Declan's scar felt against the palm of my hand and smelling smoke on him when he carried me over to the bed and laid me down beside Luca. How could I make up something like that?

"Teagan? Come on, open the door!"

I sit up far too quickly, my stomach threatening to empty its contents, and look down at my body.

I'm still in Luca's shirt. I reach under the soft material, searching for the heart etched into my chest.

It's there. That means it was real. But if it was real, then why—

"I'm calling the front desk to have someone open this door if you don't do it now!"

"Just a second!" My voice comes out raspy, my throat like sandpaper.

I drag myself out of bed and over to the door.

"Hey," I say when I pull it open.

"You missed brunch. Did you forget we had reservations?" she asks. "I called the room like ten times, and..." She pauses, taking in my appearance. "I thought you went to bed early—you look like shit."

"I didn't hear it," I tell her. "I'm sorry. I feel like shit. I think I ate some…bad sushi or something. I was up all night vomiting."

"You look like it," she says. She looks me over, likely considering whether or not to be angry. "Well, we have a cabana by the pool. We're headed down now. Come and join us when you're feeling better."

"I'll try," I tell her. "I think I'm going to go lie back down."

"Well, don't forget the show at six," she says.

"I won't. Hopefully, I'll feel better by then."

"Yeah, hopefully," she says. "If you're not going to be there, you need to let me know." She adjusts her beach bag and turns away from me.

"Okay," I say as she walks away.

She pauses, turning back to add, "You should call the restaurant. That's supposed to be a nice place; that's not okay."

"I'll consider that," I tell her.

I close the door and go back to panicking, running through last night's events in my mind.

It was Declan. He put something in my water, and then he must have put me back in here.

And then, he left me…again.I run to the bathroom and throw up, then lean against the side of the tub until the room stops spinning. Once it does, I pull myself up, splash water on my face, drink water from a glass beside the sink, and then return to the bedroom. I dig through my suitcase until I find some underwear and a pair of shorts and pull them on. Then, I grab my key and rush down the hallway to the elevator.

After what feels like forever, the doors finally open in front of me. I step inside, waiting for the doors to close again before pushing the button for the forty-second floor, where Declan brought me last night, over and over again, but it doesn't light up.

It must be broken. What the fuck?

Someone must call the elevator in the meantime because it begins moving upward, stopping at the thirty-eighth floor. I get out and look for the staircase, climbing until I get to the door marked '42,' and I'm met with the sounds of power tools and construction workers moving in and out of rooms on the floor.

"Excuse me, miss," one of the men shouts. "You can't be here."

"I have a friend staying in one of the rooms," I tell him.

"Not on this floor," he says. "You must have gotten the wrong room number. This entire floor is closed for construction; there's no one staying here."